Confluence Point

by Mark G Brewer

  Though painfully clumsy the process of securing the decks progressed steadily. The Hillary Station EFDFs continued their charge toward the Step, however it was clear now they would be too late to prevent its occupation. Still, Rod was determined, they would play their part. The smaller Hillary ADFs were trailing but also not far behind, although what help they could offer was yet to be determined. Unfortunately apart from close in lasers the ADFs were unarmed so it would be up to Rod’s team to do the business. Reviewing Hilary's data on screen he could see they were well outnumbered and the knowledge produced a fresh surge of adrenalin that lifted his voice another octave. Excitement lifted again as the screen showed five attackers breaking away from the Station and moving to intercept them.

  "We have action, incoming ahead. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt manual displacement defense. Put yourself in the right position and leave it to your AI." He continued on open line, "Ham, do we go straight on to attack?"

  "Rod, I trust you, do what the situation demands."

  "One minute to action." Rod felt the calm of combat coming over him, something he had always enjoyed and he actually felt better in a fight. Flicking his displacer defense from auto to manual he surged to the lead.

  "What are you doing Rod?" Ham's voice had that sound of resignation.

  "I've got it Ham; someone's got to break the ice." His fingers trailed over the joy stick buttons, remembering an occasion not so long ago; he was a man with a plan.

  Do I fire first, or wait for them? The thoughts spun through his mind and he quickly came to the only conclusion he could, even if in his view it wasn't smart. Regan would take the moral high ground and he did have the defenses to deal with it. Go in as the rabbit, draw the first shot - then release the team.

  "What are you doing Rod?" Minjee crackled through.

  "Just follow my lead Min; I want to make sure they fire first. We'll let them start the aggressive action and as soon as they fire the battle is on, take them out. Remember, leave displacement defense to the piglets, and keep your fingers on the trigger, good luck."

  The lead RDF, invisible in real time but closing quickly on screen, fired early then hauled away in a massive arc.

  Rod didn't hesitate to call, "Battle on people! They have fired."

  He followed the small dot as it tracked toward them, staring down the missile as if playing chicken. Sweat beads popped out on his brow as he contemplated switching back to AI auto but the thought was momentary. Steeling himself he waited until the last fraction of a second before repeating the action practiced. Stroking the displacer button he closed his eyes in a silent prayer, only opening them as the moment passed, his heart still pumping.

  "Ye-hah . . . gotcha!" Continuing on he lined up the next approaching RDFs with the missile held in a displacer loop. Not sure what maneuverability he would enjoy while holding the missile he made a snap decision to release it as soon as a Russian fighter appeared in his cross hairs. Whether by good luck or good timing he didn't care, the missile locked on the luckless RDF. Hauling his EFDF away as the RDF disappeared in a massive disintegration he released the team.

  The developing dogfight spread quickly over a massive volume of space, the Russians now actively engaging and easily being out maneuvered by the EFDFs. Rod concentrated on trying to separate another RDF from the bunch. Once in his sights he cruised with ridiculous ease up behind it to use his laser, burning into the craft before curling away, hoping for another to catch. The RDF seemed to lose all control, spinning away without power.

  Rod watched as two more RDFs were similarly dispatched by the flight, the Russian pilots having no chance with zero experience in space and craft inferior even to the chasing ADFs. The remaining pair suddenly broke away.

  They had done their job, buying time for the team on the Step and they wasted no time diving toward Earth and atmosphere. The covering RDF around the Step would now enter the fray delaying the EFDF cavalry even further as the Russian bombers docked.

  * * *

  Both bombers drifted into the flight deck with the temporary lighting throwing eerie shadows off their delta wings. SS soldiers quickly clamped the craft to the surface, looking much more comfortable in weightlessness already. They seemed to be getting around the deck with much more control and Lebedev admired their ability via the camera feed. He would emerge if they were successful in taking the station, but for the moment he would direct operations from the RDB.

  From the twin craft he could see personnel emerging with cutting equipment, the SS supporting them as they clumsily steered toward the nearest pressure doors before clamping tanks and torches down. In a surprisingly short time they were at work, carving an entrance through the door into the Station proper.

  "General, we have word they've located the Coran shuttles." The pilot’s voice crackled through his helmet and Lebedev jerked upright with excitement. "Already - excellent - excellent, are they accessible?"

  "Yes General, in a closed hangar on the other side of the flight deck. One shuttle is in parts with the drive crated up as expected. It looks ready for dispatch; we got here just in time."

  "We have good intelligence Major," and Lebedev smiled while shaking his head in amazement. Never had he known intelligence to be so good, or for providence to be so favorable. Everything is going to plan, minimal losses, maximum success, unbelievable!

  "Major, can we get the drive to the RDB or do we go to the drive?"

  "They will transport the drive here, General. As a power plant it is surprisingly small and in weightlessness it is no problem."

  "And the shuttle - is it accessible?"

  "It is General."

  "Then get the Coran pilots over there now, I want that shuttle off Station and on its way to Piesetsk . . . and get that drive over here."

  "Yes sir."

  Lebedev watched as the Coran pilot and navigator were pulled roughly to the deck from the opposite RDB. As he watched the soldier sought to maneuver them but it soon became evident the Corans were far more confident and assured in the weightless environment, quickly breaking away and appearing to swim across the surface using anything as a handhold to launch from. Within seconds it was clear they would reach the Shuttle far sooner than their escorts and Lebedev's instincts prompted a first touch of nerves as he watched them sprint away. Can they be trusted? Switching to a view of the cutting crew Lebedev could see they would break through soon. It was only the first door into the airlock and he quietly hoped they would find the internal door responded to the manual controls. No matter if it won't . . . it will yield in time.

  * * *

  Propped against an inside wall of the airlock with both feet wedged against a useful beam, a figure shuffled uncomfortably, searching for a better position as he waited. Hilary's man fixed his eyes on the torch progress mentally calculating, predicting the moment the cut would be complete and the section would be kicked away. He wasn't worried; Brian Timu had a big gun.

  Slowly the torch completed its path and he casually braced the old HK G3 battle rifle in readiness. Much favored by UK Special forces in early days he too chose the HK as a personal favorite. The 7.62 mm rounds were designed to kill with a single shot and in vacuum, he knew from experience, they would pack just the extra punch he was looking for.

  Inside the helmet he couldn't hear anything and vision was somewhat restricted. Still, he had no problem picking off the startled soldier standing in the gap as the cut section pitched inward, a single shot sending him tumbling backward. Nor was it a problem picking off the man standing behind him, or the soldier peering around from the side. Behind them he could make out others scrambling in the difficult environment, their flailing leaving them all the more vulnerable. He took another with a head shot then in one smooth motion adjusted his aim to centre squeezing off two more that sent the attackers soaring away down the deck. Not waiting, he quickly slipped through the open internal door, shutting and locking it behind him. Moving with speed he then skirted the internal corridor making his
way around the deck until he came to the next emergency airlock.

  "What about this one Hil?" He asked, opening the internal door then sitting for a quick rest in the small airlock.

  "All clear outside Brian. There are two men to the left of the exit, fifteen meters away. They're occupied trying to open the doors to an American ADF."

  "Does it matter if I damage the ADF?"

  "I hardly think so - Brian, just outside the door there are hand rungs on the wall, they are either side of the door. You can anchor your body there either side, your choice. Bet you can't do it in two shots."

  He smiled in the helmet, "Hilary, you're spending way too much time with that boy."

  "Do you mean Ham or Jared?"

  He smiled again, "Never mind . . . I'm ready when you're ready."

  The door clicked and swung outward smoothly. Brian carefully scanned the deck in front of the opening then ducked forward to check right then left. All clear to the right and the two on the left were occupied, no problem. Brian hooked one arm through the hand rung finding it just wide enough for him to squeeze the forearm through and allow him to grip the stock firmly. Two shots, two kills and he slipped back through the door, again closing it behind him.

  "That hardly seemed fair. You had plenty of time and you didn't warn them."

  "Hilary, this isn't the movies, fairness doesn't come into it."

  "I meant it wasn't fair on me."

  He chuckled, a muffled laugh in an increasingly warm helmet. "Ok, where to next?"

  "Back to the last entrance, they're about to blow the inner door; I'd rather they didn't do that."

  "Uh-huh, so how do we stop them doing that?"

  "Well if you just stop talking and get back there quickly I'll pop the door and you pop them."

  With the benefit of internal gravity he jogged back, retracing his steps to the emergency door. "So where are they?"

  "The door opens toward you, you will have line of sight to the first man as soon as the door is ajar, and the second man is crouched placing charges. The third fool is outside bending down looking through the original hole. Tell me when."

  Brian thought for a second then called, "Do it!"

  The door popped and swung toward him, Brian's first shot through the gap took the first man and as he continued the swing he picked off the second through the outer hole. Training his rifle on the third man he coolly shot him through the head, both bodies in the airlock tumbling around the small space. Half a second, three snap shots, three bodies. He stepped back, again slamming the door behind him.

  "Brian, there are still forty of them out there. I can't help thinking this is a diversion anyway. They're after the Coran shuttles."

  "Can I do anything?"

  "You've done enough for now; Ham will look after the shuttles. Hold up there, I have a feeling they'll leave the forty on Station once they have what they want and hightail it out. You may have plenty to do then. Meantime I need to consult with Ham."

  "Sweet, call me when you need me." He slid back down to a crouch.

  The two Corans hadn't waited for their handlers, their swim across the deck leaving the SS well behind. By sub command the shuttle opened at their approach and they shot through the opening like rats to a hole. The doors shut firmly behind them.

  So clumsy was their chase the two trailing Russians slammed into the fuselage and with nothing to grip they lost contact with the deck as the shuttle powered up. They could do nothing as it lifted off the deck and began to nudge forward, orienting toward the entrance. One foolishly gripped a handhold as if trying to stop its progress. It was a fatal mistake and though he released it quickly he already had enough uncontrolled momentum to send him flailing toward vacuum.

  Lebedev watched in anger and frustration. One minute it seemed complete success was assured, the next minute, disaster.

  "The drive," he broadcast on all channels, "All hands secure that drive and get it to the RDB, now!"

  Six men were already maneuvering the crated drive across the deck in a slow careful process and they were quickly joined by ten more. Anchoring themselves on any firm hand or foot hold they passed the drive from hand to hand trying to maintain control. As it neared the RDB crew opened the doors wide, however, even though moving slowly its momentum made it difficult to stop. Slowly they brought it to a halt before sliding the crate into the open storage area and securing it. The doors ratcheted closed.

  "Attention." Lebedev radioed the troops. "You have done well, we have secured the first objective, your task now is to penetrate and secure the Station. We must return the package to Piesetsk. The battle still rages outside - however we will prevai. Fight well and secure the Station for Russia."

  It was a ruse. Under the circumstances the SS action would simply create another diversion while they raced for atmosphere. They were expendable - the drive was not.

  Lebedev nodded to the pilot who took charge without hesitation. A quick check on the action outside the decks and he ordered immediate takeoff. Both RDBs lifted carefully off the deck and drifted out toward space. As if diving off a platform they sailed out only the minimum distance before dropping toward atmosphere and powering up to maximum speed. Behind them the screen of RDFs would sacrifice themselves to buy them time.

  Brian, oblivious to the action outside sat comfortably now, with gravity and atmosphere restored. Helmet off for the moment he waited calmly for the next instructions from Hilary.

  "Brian . . . could be action soon. They've left their troopers here. The craft have departed with the shuttle drive."

  "So what happens now?" He lifted his helmet, looking at it with distaste.

  "We wait for them to try to break in again, I'll tell you where."

  Brian considered that for a moment, never a man to take unnecessary risks.

  "You could just flush them," he shrugged casually.

  "Flush them?" Hilary asked.

  "Yeah, just restore the field screens, pump up the atmospheric pressure, then open a hole. I'd make it quite a small hole but I guess that's up to you."

  "I . . . I'm not sure I could do that."

  "Why not, they want to take the Step, do you really think they'll spare you?"

  "Well, they can only really push me out; can't we just get them to surrender?"

  "Hilary, they'll be special forces, even if we capture them they'll do whatever they can to take control. You might not die, but some people could." He paused tellingly as he continued to study the helmet, not making any move to put it on.

  "It's not a nice way to die." Hilary still sounded reluctant.

  "And me shooting them is?"

  She didn't reply for a few seconds . . . "We keep this to ourselves?"

  Brian smiled. "I'll have your back, you have mine."

  No one on the departing RDBs was interested in the Step as they rushed for home. Had they looked they would have seen blue field screens powering back up over the deck entrances and had they listened they may have heard loud hissing as air rushed back into the flight decks, quickly building pressure to normal. However, even if they had listened they wouldn't have been aware of the pressure continuing to build, climbing on to ear popping levels. The SS on deck were startled by the change but hindered by the weightless environment could only gather near the centre to confer on next steps. Then, in a sudden change Hilary opened a three meter hole in the field, the resulting tremendous hurricane force outflow dragging the troops to the gap and spitting them out to vacuum while sucking everything not tied down with them. In only a few minutes the decks were vacuumed clear of life and debris. The field screen closed over, and atmosphere swiftly reestablished, order restored.

  * * *

  Hillary Station

  In the cyber war room the three sat in comfort following the action and discussing options. It was disturbing to watch the SS spin out into vacuum although the likely alternative, deaths on station, was unacceptable.

  "Edit that bit out Hilary, not a good look even if it was effect
ive and Ham, when we've tidied up the Russian fighters please try to save as many as you can."

  It struck Regan how calm things were in the room and immediately she checked herself, reflecting on the lives lost and people who were suffering out there.

  Of greatest concern was the reminder that humans could exercise this kind of treachery, over and over again. Sadly, while it was disappointing it wasn't a surprise.

  She watched the aggressor shuttles falling through atmosphere with stolen cargo and in her mind's eye also followed the EFDFs dicing with Russian copies as Ham's ADFs harassed and harried.

  "They've learned Ham, they're not wasting missiles."

  "We were always going to get to this point, Regan. You hoped that Arteis would be enough but Rod's right, there are times when no one listens and force is required to keep the aggressors back."

  She didn't reply, instead focusing on the shuttles, "We can't let them have that drive."

  "Well . . ." Ham left the obvious hanging.

  "We both know what you have in mind."

  "And . . ." He didn't deny a plan.

  "Do it." She sat back and crossed her arms in resignation.

  Immediately two ADFs broke from the melee and dived after the bombers. Much advanced on the Russian copies, they made ground at a frightening rate. The minutes seemed to pass slowly as the view feed showed the two RDBs growing on the screen.